My most memorable malapropism was the time I told my father that our erractically running car was erotic. As a teenage boy at the time there was plenty of things that I found erotic, but the car was certainly not one of them.

We keep an eye on the house of some neighbors when they are away, and we have a key and the little remote device ("fob") for their alarm--in case of some emergency. For some reason, the owner has some trouble with the word for that little device. On his way home from another state, he called us in a panic. "What am I gonna do? I left my throb in a rest stop 150 miles ago." Once we determined that he had not forgotten his wife back there, but rather his alarm clicker, I found the spare and calm ensued.

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